


These Are the Rules

by dianamolloy



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Finger Fucking, Ghosts, Kinky, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, S&M, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, fat female character, plus size, plus size character, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianamolloy/pseuds/dianamolloy
Summary: New Years Eve 1899 and Lady Amelia Webb meets the charming Thomas Sharpe, and his less charming sister Lucille Sharpe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Archy3001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archy3001/gifts).



> Lovely Archy is a gift to all of us writers, she gives such insightful, funny and lovely comments throughout so I offered to write her something for her birthday. Belatedly.  
> The brief: _Thomas Sharpe explains the terms of your new BDSM relationship_.  
>  As I do shorter chapters, this will probably be 2-3 chapters but isn't due to turn into one of my longer works. The first chapter does not contain smut, this will be rectified with chapter 2 (and 3 if a third is required to finish the story).

"Get on your knees in front of me, Amelia," Baronet Thomas Sharpe instructed his new wife.

* * *

Two Months Earlier

* * *

Amelia regularly found herself invited to fancy dinners and dances because her mother, when she had been alive, was the heart of the community and part of high society. Dead since twenty-five year old Amelia had turned seventeen from a bad heart, her father, Edward Webb, served in the military and died in the Perak War in 1875 so she had never met him. Amelia's mother had been an American and despite living in London, Amelia carried a transatlantic tone about her, though never having left the British Isles herself.

Unmarried at twenty-five was quite the topic of gossip and one she did her best to ignore, as a wealthy heiress she had no shortage of suitors but the gentlemen who had sought her hand were not so  _gentle_ , seeing pound signs instead of her. She didn't want to remain unmarried, but Amelia wanted even less to be trapped in a loveless union. The romantic heart she held along with duty to her name is what led Amelia to await a carriage to ring in the New Year, and start of a new Century. Clothed in an elaborate cream lace dress which exposed the curve of her chest as was fashionable, it trailed down to a long, velvet skirt in a light blue. Amelia's large, rounded hips and a derrière which required no bustle, even if they had still been in style, were skimmed by the skirt and the front of her completely flat from the required and unwelcome corset. Her dark brown hair was curled and piled upon her head in a traditional Gibson Girl manner, pinned with crystal combs and around her neck strings of pearls sat, the final item was a pair of petite dangling topaz earrings that perfectly contrasted the colour of her cognac brown eyes. With a deep breath when her personal servant entered the room, Amelia wrapped the heavy coat over her with help and stepped into the bitingly frosty night.

Sipping lightly on a glass of champagne and smiling falsely with an air of confidence she didn't feel, Amelia found a warm baritone of a voice interrupt her inner monologue of whether it would be too impolite to leave shortly after midnight.

"I've watched you spend the last hour almost all alone?" Amelia's cheeks turned pink in embarrassment.

"Were you not engaged in conversation that entertained you enough to not let your eyes wander, Mister...?" She trailed off, both so he could introduce himself but also to hopefully feel shamed enough to go, but the bright blue eyes that met her, towering quite above her small stature, made the last syllable catch in her throat.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," he took her hand and raised it to his mouth, thin lips but soft when they met her skin and perfectly suited to his angled features. "I'm afraid I must have come off quite rude, I noticed you were alone because you've captivated me this evening, Miss?"

"Lady Amelia Webb, Sir Sharpe," she used his title as well as her own, as he had made a point to let her know and handsome face or no, Amelia was not impressed. "Your accent, it's not London is it?"

"Very astute, Amelia," Thomas leaned in to speak softly. "Cumberland is where I was born. You do not speak in the traditional dialect for London either?" he enquired back.

"My mother was American."

"And did you spend time abroad?" Thomas further pried.

"I did not, but we were very close and somehow I picked up how she sounded like a common little catbird," Amelia felt offended, everyone always commented on how she spoke.

"Or perhaps a much rarer lyrebird, a very beautiful creature whose talent of mimicry is done so well that it is indistinguishable from the original."

"You flatter me, Sir Thomas," Amelia couldn't help but feel the corners of her mouth quirk upwards.

"Enough that you will oblige me by accompanying me to dance?" Thomas caught Amelia's gaze and in them she saw warmth and honesty. She simply nodded and he led them toward the dance floor just as a new piece of music began playing. 

They twirled around the floor for two songs, and Thomas led a flushed Amelia to a cluster of empty seats, one of them though was occupied by the love of his life, his sister.

"Amelia, allow me to introduce you to my sister, Lady Lucille Sharpe," Amelia watched the beautiful woman turn around, she'd dressed in a rich navy unlike the light and delicate colours the other ladies were wearing that was more modern. Older she seemed than Thomas, but with the same eyes; however, whereas his reflected mirth and compassion, hers were colder and the amusement in them not kind, though Amelia could not tell why. Raised nevertheless with impeccable manners, Amelia pretended she had received a pleasant greeting and the two women made conversation. Stilted though it was, Amelia discovered the siblings had returned from Russia that very day after sailing for a week. Lucille excused herself not long after, hugging her brother goodbye and citing that she was not feeling well. 

On the stroke of midnight, Thomas held Amelia's hands and she felt a tingle fluttering in her belly and by the time she was back home and in her bed she hoped Thomas would want to meet with her like he'd said.

* * *

Thomas called on Amelia two days later, their escort his sister, who at this point was looking rather pale, much paler than her natural alabaster complexion this was a pallid sort of shade, and instead of an excursion out Amelia insisted they should stay. Arranging for tea and light finger foods to be brought out into the conservatory, Thomas and Amelia went around the gardens it faced after the spread had been consumed whilst Lucille choose to stay in the warmth.

"A lot of the plants are asleep for winter," Amelia explained animatedly, the garden a place of pride for her and one she enjoyed having, even choosing to physically tend to it herself instead of the groundskeeper. "But there are a few I've planted to keep the garden bright all year long, those are  _Galanthus nivalis_ _,_ " Amelia pointed to the pretty white snowdrops. "And these tall pink ones are  _Bergenia cordifolia_ , which are known as Elephant's Ears," Amelia tittered gently at that.

"I'm afraid Allerdale Hall does not have such an established garden, there has been no one to tend to it in such a loving way and the harvesting line for the old clay mines begins underneath the house. _So far_ , at least, the space could flourish under a caring hand" Thomas returned Amelia's happy expression. 

Amelia regretfully led them back toward the property, after almost an hour of wandering close to Thomas chatting, ensuring propriety but the chill in the early January air giving them an intimacy that a summer's day would not have permitted. Their smiles died when entering the conservatory, slumped on her chair was Lucille who was passed out and down her front they could see a large amount of vomit running down her dress and splattering to the tiled floor, the acrid smell of it filling their noses. 

Thomas rushed over to Lucille, face distraught and tense and calling her name as he gently shook the woman who did not waken. Amelia could see the elder Sharpe was breathing, but even to her untrained eye it looked shallow and wrong. Running inside, Amelia instructed the Housekeeper to get the doctor out urgently before returning to Thomas and Lucile, the former clutching his sister with the frantic expression of a mad-man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bio if you don't spend much time on twitter you might not have seen from GDT on [Thomas Sharpe](https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/842864182693453825). I'm totally planning on ignoring his dislike of noises and genitals, the ruiner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even when I'm following a prompt I can't be succinct! I have a feeling even three chapters won't be enough.

"We need to move her inside, Thomas, I can..." Amelia had been about to say that they needed the staff to help support her but he swept her into his arms, Lucille's shoe catching and scuffing the right arms of his shirt, and with Amelia leading the way carried Lucille inside.

In one of the drawing rooms, lit by soft candleglow already as there was no much light the sun having set mid-afternoon, Thomas lowered her onto a rich green fainting couch and Amelia instructed her personal maid to return with a basin of warm water. With the bowl in front of her and kneeling beside Lucille, she did my best to wipe at the mess withtops the clean cloth, first carefully around her face and then with more vigour at her dress in advance of the doctor arriving. Thomas merely stared at both as pale as a ghost, face drawn in a grimace and knuckles white, the only noise was the splashing of cloth on water and light ticking of the brass mantel clock on the dark wooden cabinet.

"Fetch me one of my nightdresses and a robe," Amelia turned to the maid, the dress proving impossible to clean. "Thomas, will you please wait outside, I will prepare Lucille so the physician can examine her."

"No, I must-," seeing the confusion in her eyes, it would be improper of him to remain, Thomas nodded and left though she could hear him pacing outside.

When Marta returned with the clothing, her cheeks flushed from hurrying and her young face drawn with her pale green eyes wide with anxiety, she helped Amelia undo Lucille's dress. Marta holding the woman to a sitting position for her whilst Amelia proceeded to undo the dark, rounded buttons on the back. Her corset much too tight for a sickly woman, Amelia also unlaced it enough that Lucille could take deeper breaths but it made no difference, even from Amelia's unschoolarly opinion. They dressed her in the nightdress, over her own undergarments, and then the robe successfully but with difficulty.

Lucille's eyes fluttered open soon after and with a rasping voice spoke, "where is Thomas, I want my Thomas." Her eyes focusing on Amelia she continued, "You are nobody, no one," and whatever else was to be said stopped as she heaved, Marta instinctively grabbing the wet bowl and placing it underneath to catch what came out, the smell making Amelia's own stomach churn. The doctor arrived shortly after, Thomas entering with him and the son of Cook, a thin and lanky sandy blonde boy with freckles, now entering adolescence, who the Housekeeper had sent to find him, left quickly.

"I require privacy," the portly Doctor Smythe said, his face taken up by a full grey beard and dark, heavy eyebrows, and Amelia could see Thomas was deeply unhappy about that.

Taking his hand Amelia led him outside, his palm firm and tense. 

"Thank you for your help," Thomas said absentmindedly, his head turned to the door of the room Lucille was in as if by staring he could know sooner.

"Yes, of course," she patted his arm then let go, realising she shouldn't remain holding onto him but her own manners were less than perfect after the strange afternoon.

They did not have to wait long, less than ten minutes later the door opened and stepping out and closing it behind him, the doctor looked serious.

"This young woman, is she local? I've not seen her in my practice."

"No, Lady Lucille Sharpe, and her brother Sir Thomas Sharpe, are visiting us from further North," Amelia explained and the men faced each other.

"Has your sister eaten anything unusual or been near open water?" The doctor asked.

"We've recently returned from Russia," Thomas replied. "But Lucille has not been near any open water."

"Did you eat any fish or shellfish whilst away?"

"I did not, I am not fond of either but as one of the delicacies yes, Lucille did eat seafood."

Nodding his head as if to confirm his theory the doctor continued, "I'm afraid all signs point to cholera, it's still a concern within Europe and the fact you remain healthy with your different diet cements this in my mind."

Thomas' face fell, the composure obtained once stepping outside threatening to evaporate. "You must be mistaken," he insisted.

"I do not believe so. Your sister requires care and stability, the ongoing weeks will be crucial. Have you rented a home during your stay?"

"No, we are in a hotel."

"In which case I would recommend having her brought to a hospital, a hotel is not suitable."

"Doctor, would a house stay make such a difference?" Amelia interrupted, the doctor showing annoyance at her temerity.

"Yes, a stable environment would be best."

"In which case, Baroness Sharpe can stay here, if you tell us everything we need to do I will see to it."

Amelia could clearly tell Doctor Smythe thought her presumptuous but nevertheless he gave Thomas and she full directions, warning them there was no treatment per se, merely helping Lucille become strong enough to help her body fight the infection.

"Thomas," Amelia began once the doctor had left, "I'm sorry if I overstepped my place. If you feel she would be better in hospital please, I'll help you with any arrangements."

"You are very kind," his head turned sideways, eyes appraising me and a puzzled expression settling on his face. "Lucille is not fond of medical establishments, if she is permitted to stay that would be much appreciated, Amelia," the way he said her name, as if testing it on his tongue.

Over the next thirteen days, Amelia found she slept as little as Thomas did, everything given to Lucille barely stayed in her system and the woman remained weak. In truth she did not have to help tend Lucille, she had a house full of staff who could care for the woman but the worry etched on Thomas' face tugged at something in her and Amelia wanted to smooth the frown lines away.

"You do not have to dedicate another day, Amelia," Thomas spoke gently, both of them outside the room which had become Lucille's sickroom. 

"Nonsense Thomas, the staff have all been flat out with the additional duties and Lucille is not familiar with them. I know she and I only spent a short time together before she fell ill, but I am at least a know face," Amelia spoke in return, her hands holding a tray with a bowl warm, sweetened, porridge and tea."

"Lucille has not been very kind toward you."

"It's to be expected," Amelia tried to reassure him, in truth whilst Lucille had not been overly pleasant to her housestaff, when she was awake enough to realise Amelia was with her she was positively foul. "She's very unwell, she does not know what she is saying and once she's better we won't speak of it. She probably will not remember and it might upset her dreadfully to be told. Help me with the door, once she is presentable to visitors I will let you know."

Leaning over Amelia, Thomas reached for the door and opened it, pushing it wider with a swing to allow her to step inside. Amelia turned to smile her thanks and walked in a few paces, the smell of vomit, bodily expulsions and something else greeting her when inside. On the bed lay Lucille, who had last been checked on in the early hours by one of the maids and offered water and some plain foods, her eyes open and glassy, mouth partially parted. The white covers and her night clothes no longer white with what had exited her and Amelia began to tremble, the dishes on the heavy tray clattering then all falling with a crash.

"Thomas!" Amelia screamed knowing there was no use.

* * *

Amelia had seen her mother, she was of an age when she had passed where she had been part of the funeral arrangements, and welcomed people to visit with the body in the house as was expected all those years ago. Her mother, however, had passed more peacefully, looking as if she had fallen asleep and been called by the angels in rest. The image of Lucille, face almost contorted in pain would be one to haunt her for a long time, Amelia was certain.

Thomas wished to have Lucille buried in the family plot back home but for the initial period whilst the body was prepared for travel, Amelia undertook the same preparations that was customary; the front door had a boxwood wreath, and the bell knob contained black crepe tied with a black ribbon. Despite the lack of family connection, Amelia had been dressed in black since the event, out of respect and the mirrors covered.

She had visited a distraught Thomas, taking tea in the hotel tearoom and he had been quiet and withdrawn.

"Thomas, I don't wish to intrude but if you are agreeable I would like to travel to Allerdale Hall for Lucille's funeral?"

A small look of gratitude crossed Thomas' face, the compassion shown by Amelia repeatedly gave him the only sparks of warmth he'd ever felt. This was a different feeling to the furnace experienced with Lucille; comforting but oppressive. Thomas suddenly twisted with shame inwardly, to even favourably compare anyone against the woman who had cared for him, always, was inexcusable. Undertaking unpleasant deeds, actions he himself loathed, to ensure they could remain together and he could pursue his engineering work.

"That will not be necessary," Thomas replied, uncharacteristically clipped.

"Of course, I apologise," Amelia's heart sank and she did her best to not show her disappointment.

Thomas watched her face take on a crestfallen expression that was gone a moment later, being the cause of it sitting uncomfortably on him, "I don't want to further impact upon your life but if you would like to attend, your presence would be welcome," he amended.

The overcast day matched the mood perfectly, drizzling off and on with a fog settling low and giving everything a sombre look. There were few attendants in the church and funeral, Amelia's mother had a large attendance and despite not having found the elder Sharpe warm, it troubled her how few people had come to pay their respects and she was gladder still that she had made the journey to attend. Once the ceremony was complete, and the few attendees gone, there remained only herself, Thomas and his servants. Marta had travelled with her, but the younger girl had felt unwell and seeing no other option, Amelia decided to ignore the impropriety and sent her in the carriage back to their accommodation in the main town, Thomas promising to have his take her back.

"I will arrange for your transport?" Thomas enquired.

"Yes, that would be a wise idea, perhaps...perhaps I could see Allerdale Hall before I return?" Amelia boldly asked.

The open carriage from the church to Allerdale Hall made the journey chilly, despite the heavy shawl and gloves, Amelia's toes and fingertips felt frozen.

"I cannot wait to be indoors and warm," Amelia's teeth practically chattered, the open spaces left the air so crisp, with no buildings to insulate around.

"I'm afraid Crimson Peak will not be much warmer," Thomas called over hoofbeats and turning creaking metal wheels.

Thomas helped Amelia down and she stumbled slightly as Thomas steadied her around the waist, the girl too busy being awestruck at the sheer size of Allerdale Hall to watch her footing. Imposing and magnificent above and brick red below her feet.

Stepping indoors, Thomas had been quite correct; the temperature was no better, and the hole in the ceiling created a wind tunnel so the wispy tendrils of hair which had loosened in the journey fluttered around her face, tickling her. Amelia was soon caught in observing the opulent detail of everything to be as concerned with the chill, the faded wallpaper still richly patterned and sumptuous, of what she could see, it all looked magnificent despite dilapidation with even the worn flooring of the reception being exquisite.

"Not quite what you were expecting, I wager," Thomas broke into Amelia's thoughts.

"No, it's much grander than I realised."

"Grand and falling apart," he was rueful.

"Will you, no you probably don't want to but I would really like to see your clay digger," Thomas had spoken about it to Amelia, initially in the garden before the awful events that followed and when they took tea in between tending for Lucille he spoke passionately about it his work though not in much detail.

Taking her outside via the kitchens, the machine was not running but Amelia marvelled at its size.

"How does it work," she approached it gingerly. 

For the first time since New Years Eve, Thomas spoke animatedly, explaining the steam powered way it ran and how he hoped to revolutionise not only their own mines but to expand beyond that and lessen the work for people, minimise the danger.

"As a boy, there was an accident and I saw the result of relying solely on people not much older than I was. This machine, rolled out across the country, could revolutionise so much," his eyes shone and he looked younger, less burdened. "Perhaps it is all a fanciful dream, I cannot get one of the components to correctly operate." The open expression closed once more.

"I don't know anything about machines Thomas, but if your excitement and drive alone can make it work then you'll get there, every mine in England will one day have its own."

Thomas looked elated, and he showed Amelia a few other areas of it, pulling out one of the smaller parts and explaining how it  worked and formed part of the larger action of the contraption. 

"I better arrange for Finlay to fetch the carriage, the sky will darken soon, Amelia."

"Of course Thomas, I have stayed far longer than is polite. I'm sorry yet again for your loss," Amelia wanted to say more, to ask if she would see him again but she did not, it was not her place and Amelia not for the first time cursed that place that left her bitting her tongue, because it would not do to say more.

Thomas looked as if he was unsure of what he wanted to say next, Amelia had not seen this expression of uncertainty on the handsome Thomas Sharpe before and she waited, until he broke his silence, "before you leave, you have seen Allerdale Hall rots as we stand in it however, your presence these short weeks have been sunshine on my skin. I cannot offer you what you deserve, but Amelia will you do me the honour of marrying me."

"Oh Thomas, yes!" Amelia brought herself to him, feet on tiptoes to try and reach his face and press her cheeks to his, turning with a coaxing of his hand as his soft, cool lips met hers, the flat of his other hand on the small of her back.

The wedding was simple and small, a huge celebration feeling wholly inappropriate in light of Lucille's passing. Amelia set herself the task of relocating the house staff, except the few skeleton crew who would remain running the home, for the present at least. Even Marta, whom Amelia had known for such a long time was not coming with her, the girl had begged to stay instead to be close to her ailing father. Thomas visited during their engagement period but Amelia did not see him as much as she hoped, his work keeping him away. 

Travelling together to Allerdale Hall as man and wife, Amelia finally felt content. Thomas would remain busy still but she would now be there to unburden him. He had insisted on carrying her through the doors up in his arms, her full skirts almost obstructing her view of him and Amelia giggled in delight at her new life.

After supper, the wedded Sharpes made their way up the steep staircase into the main bedroom, the flickering candles casting long shadows and making the light green room look gloomy. The fireplace only left with glowing embers as the fire died down for the night.

Amelia nervously studied Thomas, an ache forming between her thighs. Pulling his new wife to him, but stopping when she was an arms length away, Thomas travelled his eyes down Amelia's body. Her dark hair down and wavy from the twisted updo she fashioned it in. It was long, to the top of her waist but did not trail like a serpent to the floor the way Lucille's had. Confident fingers undid the buttons of her nightdress, letting the gauzy fabric fall to the ground. Amelia looked down uncertainly, body hot and wanting but embarrassed.

"Your beautiful body, Amelia," Thomas ran a hand across her stomach, around her hips and clasped her bottom. "So very soft and pliable," Thomas purred and Amelia have a soft whimper. 

Placing her hands on his white shirt, Thomas instructed her to help undress and with slow but untrembling movements Amelia did as her husband told her, her own fingers finding his skin to touch when he stood mirroring her nakedness. Though her act was more chaste, feeling along his chest, the firmness of his erection pressing on her cushioned belly made Amelia want to do more.

"Look at me, Amelia," Thomas nuzzled her face with his nose, tickling her lightly and she met his eyes. "Take me in your hand, feel me."

This time her hands did tremble as Amelia encased Thomas' cock in her hands, the skin around his shaft almost velvet and without being told she moved in a stroking motion, surprising Thomas with a brazenness and a low, appreciative rumble escaped from his chest.

"Are you a good girl, Amelia?" Thomas' tone was teasing and his right hand joined both of his wife's smaller ones on himself.

Amelia blushed, she didn't know why he would ask her such a question, nor why him doing so made her throb.

"Or," he continued, to draw her out, "are you a bad girl?" This time it was Amelia who made a noise, hers more delicate but as needful as his.

"I..I don't know," Amelia sounded flustered.

"We'll have such fun discovering, won't we," it was a statement not a question. "Lie on the bed for me, my beautiful wife. Lie on the bed and open your legs."

Thomas watched his sweet wife unfurl like a flower, shy but willing to please as her plump legs parted, glistening for him when he looked at her centre. Climbing on top of her, his curls falling over his eyes until Amelia's delicate touch brushed it out of the way.

"I want to see you properly, Thomas," she answered his unspoken question. "I _need_ to see you as you take me."

He felt exposed, Lucille and he rarely looked at each other during their coupling. Closed eyes, clothes half on despite being adults they subconsciously never relaxed. Always fearful of being caught, even when there was no one left to catch them. Amelia stared into his eyes as Thomas slid inside her, a hiss of pain from her lips and he stilled himself along her unbroken entrance. The horses they rode meant when Thomas and Lucille had finally done the deed, that he had not had to hurt his sister but Thomas found the fact it was he who sheathed himself inside his virgin wife's cunt against resistance for the first time a turn on. Whispering praise to Amelia to distract her as he moved again, he felt his dick harden further from the act of being the only one who ever had or ever would pierce his new love.

"Thomas, it hurts so much," Amelia cried out under him and Thomas pulled away so he remained inside her but no longer testing at the thin membrane parting him from his goal.

The distance allowed Thomas to slip his hand between them, the heat of her building until he finally reached Amelia's small nub, a small shriek that she silenced escaping her lips when his fingers brushed against her pearl.

"Do not hide your noises from me. Let. Me. Hear. Each. One." Each word was punctuated by a flick of Amelia's clit and the resulting noise falling out of her, a smirk crossing Thomas' lips.

The pressure built and Amelia squirmed under Thomas, eyes glazing in ecstasy, hot puffs of air on his neck and her hips shuddered. As her eyes vision blurred and a low yowl came from deep in her throat, Thomas used her wave of pleasure to push all the way in. Amelia's orgasm turned into burning pain, tears springing from her eyes but Thomas kept the pressure from his hands going, the position uncomfortable now he also fucked her but he persisted.

"Take me deep inside, moan for me little girl," Thomas commanded and Amelia contracted again, Thomas' stomach muscles clenched as he felt his own release build, and when it crested he emptied himself inside of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not even st the kinky shit yet! *devil smiling emoji*
> 
> Also yes, gothic romances appaz have me being a bit floral, but look it's much harder to be more delicately crass than just crass. Who knew ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> It's a very long time since I was a virgin but I remember it akin to someone punching me in the cunt. Ymmv.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in this Archy, even staggered presents aren't meant to take so long.  
> ———————  
> I've got a story arc in mind, but I'm not constricting myself to X number of chapters any more because it's claustrophobic and stops me just writing.

Amelia knelt on the stone floor, the noisy satin skirts of her deep jewel toned purple dress spreading around and hiding her legs and feet as she poked at the piano system wood burning stove, trying to get the blasted thing to heat and help warm up the draughty house. She was not a complete stranger to how such an appliance worked, but the wind that was as present in Allerdale Hall as a person would have been left the flames struggling to do more than flicker uselessly and die. Eventually, after several further attempts and a burnt thumb, Amelia got the fire going properly and she closed the small enamel coated door and lifted herself up, hands brushing dust away from herself.

The house was too large for only her to manage, she struggled to see how Lucille had done so but, equally and uncharitably, its dilapidated state showed she rather had not. The now snowy weather and countryside location meant at this time of year, as Thomas had correctly predicted in advance, after her adverts went unanswered that they would find it difficult to find willing household staff to travel in and out. The house was in too much disrepair and there were no available servant's quarters for live-in help so until the thaws of Spring, Amelia was expected to run Allerdale Hall as best she could whilst Thomas and his two workers worked on his digger.

The snowfall was impeding the speed in which they could carry out work and it had left Thomas overworked and quick to anger, annoyed at her when she insisted that he come inside once darkness fell and that Finlay go home, the dutiful older man holding a gas torch to light the areas Thomas was working on once the sun set by four in the afternoon. She had discovered a stubborn streak in her new husband, one that she tried to soothe away and avoid taking offence at when his tone was less than the honeyed words she was used to hearing from him when addressing her. Once he was done, when he could get the mine opened after all his hard work, she trusted that he would return to the man she had fallen in love with and be less prone to sharpness. She knew too, despite never talking of her, that he would still be mourning his sister's tragic death.

A bundle of their clean laundry in her hands within a wicker basket, Amelia climbed the grand staircase and walked the long corridor to their rooms, settling the holder on the bed whilst she put their clothing away carefully, the items which required pressing were rolled and folded downstairs, still damp and awaiting her to use the flat iron to uncrease them. Checking the solid silver pocket watch on a slide chain, a wedding gift from Thomas, Amelia noted it would be time to start cooking very shortly and was lifting the basket back up when a double knock outside of the room startled her.

”Thomas?” Amelia called, finding no one outside. Nobody else would be inappropriate enough to be in their home upstairs, but why would her husband knock on his own bedroom door. 

Standing still Amelia could think of no explanation and with the basket in hand she made her way toward the staircase, when she had reached the top a very unexpected chill filled her, unusual from the regular cold experienced by her since moving to Allerdale Hall. Suddenly her neck felt trapped, held by an icy grip stilling her head, not allowing her to look behind to see who or what was there. Dread bubbled within Amelia, the fingers felt like they were covered in spikes as pinpricks stabbed along her skin wherever it touched; the texture of it revolting to her along with whatever it was that she could smell, lurching her stomach. Old blood, bile and rot mingled together in an olfactory nightmare with Amelia frozen in place. A sharp pain caused lights to dance in front of Amelia’s eyes, ghoulish fairies obstructing her vision as she did her best to clear the stars from them and see clearly as whatever held her let go only to grab and twist her hair backwards. Despite it being pinned up, the hand still managed to obtain a large amount of hair and a cry of pain and shock rang out of her mouth. Amelia was propelled forward, pushed down the stairs and found herself falling with a loud scream as she tumbled downward and rolled, the small middle landing of the stairs stopping her falling the entire way.

Amelia jumped when hands gripped her again and yelled, shoving backward and trying to slap them away until she realised this was a touch of concern from her husband, not whatever malevolence had harmed her. Eyes darting to the top of the staircase she saw no one there, nothing to show there had ever been anyone stood behind who had hurt her. Amelia tried to focus on Thomas, she saw he was talking to her from the movement of his mouth but she hadn't heard him at all, meanwhile his busy hands seemed to be inspecting for damage or breaks.

"Amelia, did you trip? Are you alright?" Thomas spoke at speed, concern lacing his voice. 

"I, I was pushed. Someone was here Thomas!" Amelia sobbed, frightened by her ordeal and gripping Thomas’ larger hands in her own smaller palms for comfort.

"Darling there must be some mistake," Thomas helped his wife stand once ascertaining that beyond a few areas of tender flesh where she had hit the wall at the mid-point of the staircase that she was fine. "There would be no way of anyone approaching Allerdale Hall, much less entering, without your or I being aware of them. We are so far from town, a carriage or horses would have been seen or heard, you must have simply slipped."

"I know how to walk, Thomas," Amelia replied tersely, hurt by the dismissal and disbelief. 

"You believe someone pushed you, is that correct?" the Baronet's tone matched his wife's brittle one, the shards of their words cutting the closeness between them as they let go of each other. "Stay where you are, nobody came past me so whomever you think attacked you must be upstairs," Thomas walked away and up.

Amelia did stay where she was, fretfully waiting for his return and minutes later when he did so empty handed a look of frustration marred his face. She did not know whether to feel relief nobody had attacked him in the manner she had been or fear that Thomas, whom she believed would have searched thoroughly, didn’t find a soul up there to explain what had occurred.

"I know what I felt," Amelia insisted as her led her to the bottom of the stairs and into the kitchen.

"And where has the fiend gone? Did they simply vanish into thin air, Amelia?" Thomas’ cadence still indicating he was very much at the skeptical end of the spectrum that Amelia had been ambushed by anyone.

"No, of course not. I don't know where they could have gone, but Thomas something grabbed me and pushed me!"

 _"Something_  now, not someone? You know I am under enormous pressure to get my machine working, the daylight fights against me every day fading earlier and earlier and you now believe in apparitions attacking you. I thought you logical, I am a man of science and engineering and you splutter about invisible hands?" Thomas angrily replied, the sun beginning to set shortly before he had heard Amelia cry out having incensed him at another day gone and being no further in his work. "Could it not," Thomas calmed himself, knowing his ire was not at his pretty wife, "be that you tripped over those long skirts and imagined the rest after falling? I came as quickly as was possible when I heard you, but in the time it took me to reach you, your mind could have tried to fill what happened.”

”I’m not a child, Thomas. I didn’t make up a story,” Amelia remained terse, despite the change in him and Thomas’ pursed his lips as a wall came up from him.

”You appear no worse for wear, I cannot waste more time on this,” with a perfunctory kiss to his wife’s cheek, Thomas withdrew back outside to his grand creation, interest shining in his eyes as soon as it was in his line of view.

Amelia prepared herself a tea, seated so her back was to a wall and her round, watchful eyes stayed alert while she sipped. She had been grabbed but there was no one to be found, how could that be. Like Thomas, she was a believer in what she could see, beyond the comforting view that her mother watched her from heaven she was not one to entertain much fancy. She could not marry her views with what she had experienced, trying to do so and Thomas’ dismissal simply left her irate.

She prepared their dinner, a warming soup of meat and vegetables and ate hers then took herself to bed early, leaving Thomas to work by lamp undoubtedly and to finish when he was satisfied. His dinner would retain heat until he required it, having been left on a warm spot on the cooker which was off for the night, but she remained vexed with her husband and did not wish to wait for him nor try to lift his spirits as she had always done so far after one of his long days. Sleep started to dull her thoughts and upset once in bed, wrapping at her like a soft cocoon as Amelia closed her eyes, only to be woken in what felt like mere moments but the dying fire if she had been able to see indicated a much longer period, that of a few hours. 

“You were not waiting for me,” Thomas rumbled over her with his body pressing from above on Amelia’s, the couple separated only by the eiderdown, who blinked repeatedly to wake herself. 

“I left your supper prepared, I felt unwell,” Amelia lied, deep brown eyes not meeting the mercurial blue of her husband’s.

She gasped when his fingers gripped her chin like a striking cobra, “do not lie to your daddy, little girl,” he hissed.

”My...? Thomas what are you doing?” for the second time that day Amelia sought to free her head and was unable.

”Hush,” he crooned, using his free hand to tug the covers down and off the girl and then the bed, his hand cupping her and curving his digits against her clothed sex. “I am your daddy and I am in charge of you, do you understand me?”

Amelia wanted to push him off, accuse him of drinking or madness but his sinful whispers and taboo words gave her a flutter, one followed by a moan when those deft, _clever_  fingers rubbed along her parting, the seam of which separated her from her pleasure, “yes daddy,” was instead her response. 

“Good girl,” Thomas practically purred, his erection straining against his trousers as the fantasy his mind had created the first night he had plucked her virgin fruit was borne into reality. Lucille, except in the company of others, had ruled everything and he longed to explore past that, to be the dominant one and now with this beautiful, acquiescencing creature underneath him he would be able to do so.

”This is...it’s not correct,” Amelia tried to protest, propriety rearing its head within her as Thomas clawed her nightgown upwards, layers and layers of yellow chiffon bundling around her waist, so he could touch her skin to skin.

”Then why are you wet for me,” it wasn’t a question and his thumb parted her as tiny electric shocks of pleasure fired within Amelia. “Your daddy will sink himself within your aching quim and you will open yourself to me, won’t you?” This was a question, and as Thomas awaited her answer he took one fabric covered nipple between his lips and sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I mean the tags did have ghosts in them so if you were wondering thematic because of it being CP’s world or actual? There’s your answer.
> 
> I didn’t think I was going with daddy kink in this, there was already the very obvious incest taboo and I thought it might be superfluous but then I was writing and it just worked for me as a show of his dominance and new stature of being the one in charge. I guess Master would work but it’s not a word that works for me and Sir I guess could but then he’s called that because of his title so I stuck with the initial.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a good memory you’ll know Amelia’s hair initially finished at the tops of her breasts, which was a mistake on my part because of the very first image in my head after Archy’s prompt.

Amelia didn’t reply, concentrating instead on the sensations Thomas’ mouth created within her, not wanting to respond. The truth of his question shamefully erotic and fighting internally with what she knew should be given as her response. That she should hustle him backward and away from her welcoming form, to tell him no more and insist they never bring forth the subject ever again, that their coupling be free from such illicit terms going forward. Amelia could not however, she did not wish to say a single word in contradiction of Thomas’ dark mutterings even if the sin of them went against everything she knew to be expected of them by their peers and God above.

A sharp sting made Amelia cry out, Thomas having sunk his teeth around her peaked nipple, “your answer?” Her gaze had instantly flown downward, frantically searching for the cause of the discomfort instinctively and met his wicked ones staring in return, lips reflecting a glossy sheen from the dampness caused by his suckling through fabric.

”No,” Amelia formed the words, bitter on her tongue and through gritted teeth, expelling righteousness past the lust and her husband laughed at her.

”You writhe beneath me and expect me to accept this as sincerity from you,” the humour expressed by him dry and sardonic, at the same moment sheathing himself to the hilt inside of her as Amelia’s breath exhaled sharply. “You may force yourself to cling to moral piety but I know that is not what you covet,” his thrusts were languid and rhythmic, the scrape of his firm manhood pushing on Amelia's sensitive nub with each withdrawal.

“Thomas, please,” Amelia tried, needing him to understand that his earlier declaration would carry them both to ungodly places and mar their souls. 

“Underneath me you do not use my name, sweet wife,” Thomas growled, hips pistoning sharply with annoyance and the added vigour left Amelia clinging to his forearms as a rush of ecstasy took over, fluttering between her legs and rolling across every nerve ending, the pitch of her shriek aggravating the Baronet’s right eardrum. “When my organ is enveloped within your moist opening, I am your daddy,” was all it took for another orgasm to claim Amelia, physical mimicry of the way her husband was doing to her with his words and body.

Thomas waited until Amelia stopped shuddering before pulling his cock out, his stiff shaft glistening with the evidence of Amelia’s true desires toward the way he wished to have her. He rolled off of her body, tucking himself back inside his trousers whilst leering at Amelia’s expansive flesh uncovered and wanton, her legs still open, and ordered her to stand.

”Thomas, what are you doing?” Amelia sounded uncertain and his voice had made her feel vulnerable and aware she had not covered herself up, which she did now with a feeling of self-consciousness.

”Do not make me repeat myself,” his tone was cool and disinterested and brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks, hurt laced with awkwardness, as Amelia climbed from the safety of their bed and stood, staring not at the floor exactly but avoiding letting her eyes sharpen to see anything in detail.

”Good girl,” Thomas praised, he had risen himself, come to a stop in front of his perfect bride and used the back of his pale hand to stroke her left cheek. Taking her smaller fingers in his, Thomas led the girl out of the room and up another level of the mansion, leading her up to his workshop in the attic with the house creaking under them, and the cold turning their breath visible even in the gloom as the mist played across their faces like impish spirits. Amelia had never explored at night, Thomas had warned her to be careful as it was during the day and the imposing figure the house cast once the sun set was a deciding factor in ensuring Amelia did not go far. After the earlier events she still couldn't explain, Amelia vowed to not to move alone in darkness but she was not currently presented with a choice or autonomy. The hole in the roof meant the night sky and moon often reflected light and shadow so it was not pitch black, but the old wood was unpleasant on her bare feet. The semi-rotted planks causing distress on her delicate skin, and an almost necessity to withdraw her being from the very house itself. She used her free arm to ensure she would not trip, unaware it was unnecessary as Thomas walked them both with enough distance and care to ensure she would not come to any harm.

Lighting a lamp, a dim glow filled the room and Thomas herded Amelia inside his private space; even Lucile had seldom bothered him whilst he tinkered privately up here once they were adults and had the entirety of Allerdale Hall to occupy, not just areas where they’d been locked up in. Keeping her near the entrance of the room, a distance from the furniture and and smaller contraptions and toys that were at the far end, Thomas stopped Amelia going further in. “Everything in here is a creation of mine. Everything,” he intoned suggestively.

Sweeping behind Amelia, a nervous noise escaping her at his swift movement, Thomas clasped her ample breasts in his greedy palms, kneading the malleable flesh underneath. Grasping at the gauzy nightgown, he tore the thin fabric and roughly tugged the sleeves down and discarded the cocoon hiding his wife from full view. Pressing his dressed figure against her naked one, Thomas murmured appreciatively, relishing the way his much taller frame loomed above her diminutive height. He pulled away and rough fingers brushed Amelia's hair to rid it of any knots, the cascade of chestnut waves ending just before the curve of her rump.

"Place your arms behind you," Thomas dictated and Amelia complied, as bewildered as she was aroused.

Splitting her hair into three sections, Thomas began to make braid at Amelia's nape, leaving the middle segment flush with her straight upper arms; the ties made of hair twisting around them and creating the plait between and through her limbs. Binding his consort with her own hair and producing a beautiful restraint that pushed her breasts forward and lifted her head slightly upward, Thomas stepped aside to admire his work before reaching into a cabinet a few steps away. He withdrew a coil of rope and used it to secure the ends so it would not unravel and undo his handiwork.

Walking across to face her, his eyes dark and depraved from watching his promiscuously trussed up lover, "get on your knees in front of me, Amelia," Baronet Thomas Sharpe instructed his new wife. Wavering as she did, balance hard to keep without the use of anything to hold with, Amelia knelt down in front of her commanding partner, the air in her lungs heavy from his expression toward her. "You crave this as much as I do, Amelia. Your moans and the way your secret entrance reacts is the proof I require. For all the world to see you will be my wife, within the privacy of our home you are mine beyond that. I am your daddy and I will take whatever I require from you, little girl," Thomas bent down, parting her knees, and ran his digits over Amelia's soaking wet slit. 

"How can you ask this from me," Amelia tried to speak without trembling but she was finding it impossible to keep a clear head as her hips rotated in time to Thomas' attentions.

"I am not _asking,_ you are being told what will happen and the way you need me to look after you" Thomas breathed against Amelia, who whimpered, agreement clear. "I will expect you to follow certain rules and breaking them will result in correction," his fingers were still playing with his wife's cunt.

"What does that mean?" Amelia mewled, trying so very hard to listen to her husband's words not just concentrate on his actions. The reply came not from his mouth but his palm as he swatted her behind, the noise loud and clear in the mostly silent room and a cry rang out from Amelia.

"That is one such example. At all times you will obey the following, inside this house you will not wear undergarments."

"There are others beyond you and I during the day," was as far as Amelia got, before Thomas stopped her in her tracks with another swing of his free hand, the one between her legs still very much occupied and the filthy noises coming from her pussy was audible to the couple.

"When we are intimate, you will not use my name as I told you earlier. I _am_ your daddy, Amelia and you will refer to me as such. And finally, for the moment, I will have you whenever and however I want, your job is to comply; your body belongs to me, your soul belongs to me," he grunted and sped up his movements, Amelia crying out with every stroke and scrunching her eyes shut when the wave of pleasure crashed over her, unaware through her orgasm that after she had reached her peak, Thomas had removed his hand and was tasting her delectable juices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See why I needed the hair. Mine, which is top of tit length would never reach. And I'm wildly jealous because when the imagery got into my head, I wanted to try it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew this little story would keep growing for me. I’m having such fun.

Amelia had tried, she truly had done her very best to follow Thomas' rules but she loathed being without underthings. Even clothed in long dresses, simply the corset, Thomas had conceded that item was necessary, was not sufficient. Three days in and going against his wishes she had pulled on a pair of bloomers on day four, carefully planning to slip them off in the evening once they were alone so Thomas would be none the wiser.

Despite her vigilance, sharp eyes attuned to the smallest changes, there had been no further unexplained occurrences, nothing direct but Amelia felt as if she were watched at all times and it was unnerving. Moreso because Thomas refused to engage with her on the subject, citing that he had proven no intruder had been there and Amelia could tell any further raising of it would incur her husband's ire and displeasure.

The noise of the creaking lift caught Amelia's attention as she sat in front of the fire, rising from the chair which faced the piano, the centrepiece of the room and where Amelia was certain Thomas' attention would always have been when Lucille was alive, she went to investigate. 

"Thomas?" Amelia called out as she approached the hallway and could see no one. He had warned her the contraption had a mind of its own and with no other soul beyond herself, Amelia spun to return to the warmth when the sound of the door opening by itself made her slowly turn back.

Walking cautiously and with a decisive intake of breath, Amelia stepped inside. She was given no opportunity to select a level and with a shaky start the metal cage took her downward, in the direction of the place she was told never to visit by her husband. If Amelia had believed the rest of the house was an icebox, it was practically tropical compared to the basement. She had decided to stop with this silly adventure and go back up but no matter what she tugged at and pulled the box wouldn't budge, and as it had above, now below the entrance slid open and with goosebumps and trepidation, Amelia took a few steps forward. Circular vats filled the room in two rows and flickering gas lamps lit her way, pausing in front of the closest she wrenched back the lid with effort, huffing at the weight of it. Clay, crimson clay in liquid form almost to the top was inside and with curiosity winning out, Amelia extended a hand and touched the substance rubbing her digits together in the fluid to test its texture. Withdrawing her hand, or attempting to when a painful pressure snapped around her wrist and pushed her downward, whatever was trying to keep her wasn't pulling from below but was over her. Digging her feet on the ground, Amelia did her damnedest to use the force of her legs to help her when a heaviness pressed on her back; she was now not only being held but being forced face first toward the clay. Panic engulfed her mind, sheer terror that nobody knew she was down here and Thomas was too far to hear her, even if she screamed. No one would be coming, she couldn't slip or lessen her efforts. Twisting her shoulders from side to side in a bid to wriggle free, Amelia managed to slide lower, knees landing ungracefully on the cold ground. Scrabbling to her feet and breaking into a run she slammed the door of the lift shut and mercifully it worked it this time, climbing slowly upward. Eyes wild, Amelia failed to notice Thomas until she bumped straight into him.

"Thomas, thank goodness," Amelia exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the safety of the familiar.

"What were you doing down there," was his cold reply and it was then, disentangling herself from his firm body, that she saw his expression was icy and filled with fury.

"I...I," she didn't know what to say.

"I am waiting for more than your stutters, Amelia," he scowled, even angrier that she could not construct a sentence.

"I was grabbed again Thomas, you have to believe me."

"You were taken below, against your will, where I told you you must never venture?" the disbelief clear.

"No, I went alone, it was whilst I was downstairs. I had removed the cover from one of the pits and I was grabbed," Amelia explained, face flushed and breath heavy from what she had experienced.

"Then you disobeyed me, you took yourself there despite my wishes?" Thomas questioned and Amelia looked at him miserably, unsure how the conversation had become about her wrongdoing.

"Thomas yes, but you are not hearing me. Something held me again, it tried to push me inside the clay," Amelia implored him to listen, voice rising.

"I have heard you wife, I have listened to you admit to defying me," and for the second time that day Amelia's wrist was clamped and she followed on quick feet, struggling to keep pace with her much taller husband's legs. 

Thomas sank onto the very chair Amelia had vacated before her attack and with the ease of someone stronger had her draped over him with her behind facing up. Confident hands bunched the girl's dress at her waist and her stomach sank at the low noise rumbling from a very unhappy Thomas upon discovering her in underwear.

"Not only," he hissed, roughly freeing her from the contraband garment, "did you sneak where you have been told to avoid, but you flaunt the rules I laid out."

"No, not here," Amelia tried to cover herself, petrified his men would hear her humiliation but Thomas easily secured her flailing hands with one of his own.

"Do not make your punishment more severe for yourself, you foolish little girl," he growled and Amelia stilled.

It hurt, there was no other word for it. Thomas rained down slap after slap on her tender bottom and even with Amelia attempting to clamp her lips shut the ringing of his smack was swiftly followed by a cry of pain. These were nothing like the tester blow he had given her as he had explained what would happen if she contradicted his commands. Her skin, not just at the impact site but on her neck and face, felt uncomfortably flushed and looked reddened and to her embarrassment she could feel her husband's firm erection pressing near her face. He derived pleasure from hurting her this way, it was monstrous. It was why Amelia withdrew as Thomas' touch changed from brutal to exploratory, aghast he would attempt to caress her after beating her.

"Do not pull away, Amelia. You took your correction well, now allow your daddy to express his pride in your bravery by making you beg and quiver,” he was matter of fact in his statement of what she would do. “Do not think it escaped my notice that between cries of anguish I felt your hips twitch above me.”

”Thomas, no,” Amelia implored, anxious to be away from him, to hide from anyone who might now be privy to what had occurred.

“If it is no, the way your mouth begs me, why does your body show the clear signs of arousal. Does it excite you that I strike you, that I lay you on display in a position where you are imploring me for forgiveness for your transgressions while equally needful of my stiff prick inside of you?” no longer the raging man she had encountered Thomas was now seductive, his rich voice settling on her and prickling every nerve ending.

”I wish to stand up,” Amelia attempted to sound sure of herself, the way a wife would not the debased creature he had caused her to be and turned her into.

”You may wish it, but you desire far more for me to touch you,” he crooned, fingers easily sliding between her silky folds. “The way you leak moisture in response to my causing you pain, what would people say if they were aware I had married a common whore, a wanton slattern hungry for degradation?” he enquired. 

“I..,” Amelia was interrupted.

”Hush, sweet girl. Your protests fall on deaf ears, instead open yourself up to me,” to her horror Amelia did just that, breath hitching as Thomas worked his thick fingers inside of her. “What a good wife you are, parting your delectable cunt for me to ready you before I am inside of you fully. You’ll contract when I sheath myself wont you, whimpering as you struggle to fit me as I use you.”

Amelia screamed out, loud enough that those around the property would have heard her and when Thomas yanked at her, pulling her as he would a rag doll she did not fight but instead facilitated it so she could have him inside of her aching entrance sooner. He roughly lowered her on himself, her back pressed against his chest as he kept her knees parted with a firm grip either side. Hips pistoning upward Thomas fucked Amelia, enjoying the bounce of her soft body over his rigid one and when he came he forbade her from cleaning his seed until he had her again before that night. Thomas’ parting words were that he would be working late again due to the fresh snowfall, something Amelia had missed stuck in the basement, which had caused him to send the others home early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to learning about fatphobia and things you don't know if you're not fat with me, your stunning teacher. If you aren't fat, here are two things on Instagram you won't likely be aware of - people regularly tag their friends on my pics, especially the underwear ones but even me just living life gets targeted. No comment, nothing else, just the @ so their pal can come and laugh at the fat girl. Usually the reply to the @ is a laughing emoji. The second thing is people who are trying to lose weight follow me. i am their thinspo, my body is their motivation to never turn into me. This happens a lot, to almost every visibly and unabashedly fat person online. Are these things shit? Sure but everything in fatphobia is a patchwork quilt, the lesser and the worse and by dismantling it all, by changing how we react to fatness in all ways we can build a better world kiddos.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just paste my work and go along? No, no I cannot I’m sorry for being a menace (I'm not). You’ve probably read Cat Person in the NY-er (https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/12/11/cat-person tw for sleeping with someone you didn’t really want to) and maybe you noticed the fatphobia and maybe you didn’t. What I’ve seen non fats do though is excuse it as part of the character, how she is flawed herself. As if fatphobia is a decent trope to use for this (spoiler: it’s not). Sure, like society around is a canvass to draw from eliminating fatphobia isn’t accurate *but* just because you can, should you. Firstly when it is used as a shorthand for repulsion, for laziness, and to indicate a bad person then not only are you a bad writer but you are lazy and outdated. The world is already shit, fiction needn’t be. Does fatphobia have to be the thing you use, is it relevant beyond this throwaway line to highlight your character is a cunt. Does it even do that, most of the time it is so throwaway I know the author hasn’t even registered the sharpness of the knife of their words to soft bodies like mine. Because if it comes up once due to relevancy but never again then be more interesting as a writer. Also, does what you’re writing have a right to harm others. When it is not central to the character/story, the answer is no. Thank you for learning fatphobia with your pal, here to educate and without further ado to titillate.

"Darling, what's all this?" Thomas took in the scene in front of him, despite it only being himself and Amelia she had set the dining table with a linen tablecloth and the lit candelabras gave the space a more welcoming feel than was usually present. Decades since his mother's death and Thomas still felt the most comfort up in the attic in his workroom. Lucille had claimed this room, playing the piano and spending the bulk of her time here in defiance toward Beatrice but he could not shake her disapproval.

"You mentioned a fondness for candlelit dinners on the first night I met you, whilst being very disdainful of the vol-au-vent's being offered."

Thomas laughed gently, bending down to place a kiss on Amelia's left cheek, his hair which was slightly damp from his bath brushing against her face, "I can't believe you retained such a detail."

He helped Amelia sit, a protective hand on the small of her back as Thomas manoeuvred her to the front of the chair. She had batted away his offer of help and brought out the various dishes herself and as he had waited he did not feel the usual discomfort of being here; spine straight and away from the large painting but the fierce expression did not bore into him as he was accustomed. They ate the first course, a leek and tarragon soup, the herb having been brought from her own cuttings and planted indoors, in companionable silence. Thomas loathed the sounds of people talking with their mouths full, a disturbing assault of sight and sounds but Amelia's manners were as impeccable as his own.

Ignoring the gnawing in the pit of her stomach, Amelia wished to bring up her concerns post dinner but was hesitant to do so in case it broke the warm atmosphere they had created, no trace of stress weighing on her husband; even the lines of stress around his eyes were less prominent and she was loathe to be the cause of its return. "Thomas," she began with a deep breath and he met her gaze, waiting for what she had to say. "I don't... I'm not comfortable with your rule."

He observed her face dart upward and return back down, a quick gauge of whether he was annoyed but his expression hadn't shifted, "I take it you mean the one where you forgo underclothes? A reminder of my ownership and position over you?"

"It doesn't feel that way. It makes me feel exposed around the workmen. Weak."

"Do you feel this same way when you submit to me?" Thomas enquired, sliding his chair back soundlessly and patting his leg for Amelia to join him, which she did. Their eyes not even level in this position, despite most of Thomas' height coming from his legs, his torso was longer than hers and she was still dwarfed by him.

Amelia took a moment to consider his words, not wanting to reply swiftly just to please Thomas but to answer truthfully, "I did, initially. But no longer," she felt shy admitting it but was rewarded for her honesty by Thomas capturing her lips in his, the kiss long and explorative, as if he sought to taste beyond her mouth and into her very soul.

"Will you follow it comfortably if you are only required to do so on once a week, when it is just you and I at Allerdale Hall?"

"That's  _blasphemous_ Thomas, Sunday is the Lord's day," Amelia gasped, they had not reached a weekend yet but she had never believed he would insist she do so on a Sunday. 

"Neither you nor I attend Church, my dear?" Thomas chuckled at Amelia's horror.

"That's not, I mean it's the principle," Amelia faltered.

"You do not belong to God, Amelia. You are mine and I do not decree it as sacrilegious, quite the opposite" his hand slid over her generous bottom, cupping what he could in their seated position and Amelia melted into him, the familiar pang of need flickering low in her belly. Amelia nodded in agreement at what he was proposing, the illicit nature of his command bringing warmth to both her cheeks and between her thighs.

* * *

The blade was smooth across his chin, head fully tilted backward in a hazy mixture of trust and the fear of self preservation anybody would experience with a deadly razor against their throat. 

She was on his lap, her core grinding over his now firm prick, and he stiffened underneath in a bid to avoid any cuts despite the welcome yet salacious distraction. A hiss escaped Thomas when a rolling hip motion caused an especially sharp need within him and the unavoidable spasm shook him, causing a sting spread over the skin of his cheekbone as a cool tongue laved against the slice, licking away the line of blood which had formed with a delighted purr and he furrowed his brow not in distaste but confusion.

The clatter of the metal that rang out as the cutthroat shaver was dropped on the ground had Thomas lean forward to follow the noise but his head shot backward when soft, graceful hands released him from the confines of his trousers and his eyes closed again before ever fully having opened.

Thomas grunted, making any noise during sexual acts still foreign to him but exciting especially the way Amelia would tremble underneath him when he did but his sounds were cut off by a thumb slipping between his lips, silencing him as he sucked on the smooth and delicate digit. The dynamic was incorrect, Amelia too aggressive in her manner and Thomas wanted to stop her but his need to come was too great and the firm pressure on his shaft distracted him from doing anything except allowing her fist to pump him and so he would permit her, just this once, to lead.

Pressure building in his testicles, tight and swollen from arousal, Thomas gritted his teeth when the thumb was removed from his mouth and found its way to the tip of his cock, slick with moisture. And wetter still when he came, breathing hard and heavy.

”Don’t I always look after you, Thomas?” he pulled back in shock at Lucille’s voice, clear and sure, very unlike Amelia’s softer tone.

Eyes flying open he saw a blackened, gruesome version of his sister on top of him, exactly as she had always been except every inch of her dark as soot, all light dying when it hit her instead of reflecting outward.

With a strangled noise Thomas sat up, face and chest sweaty, taking deep lungfuls of air as his head scanned the entire room but it was empty save for himself and a sleeping Amelia beside him in bed. A dream, a grotesque dream, he reassured himself, raising the glass of water on the bedside table to his mouth and it dawned on him then that he had made a sickening mess of himself.

He took himself to the bathroom and cleaned up his sticky, seed covered groin and thighs, disgust at his own mind and the nightmare weighing heavy on him. The bathroom was far enough from their bedroom but taking no chances, Thomas worked quietly. Unsoiled and dry he noticed a sensitivity on one side of his face, the pad of his index tracing the sore area that in the reflection he now looked at showed a perfect line across his otherwise unmarred cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know leek and tarragon are in season in Jan. Tiny details like this which are factual are v sexy to me. Even if it is about vegetation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me do you a solid and say: don’t decide to try wax strips you’ve never used before on your armpits and stick both sides on. You won’t be able to pull them off, no matter how much you try, (bc the pulling arm is now stuck in a funny position) and you’ll have to call your partner to do it. The bastard strips will then only yank 5 hairs one side and 0 the other. Oh and I was completely naked because of course. Humiliation, thy name is me. He said I was still sexy, the adorable liar.

Amelia was mid-sentence, tea cup in the air by her face, when the room took a hazy quality and she slumped forward, hearing the snapping of the porcelain shatter as it hit the floor. 

She did not see a startled Thomas rise to his feet and run to her side, his boot further obliterating the small, broken pieces of the china in his haste and turning the delicate flower pattern he stepped on to nothing. Nor his stricken face, the cut which he had told her occurred when working on his machine having healed and the lightest of lines, visible only in some lights, the only remaining evidence of what had occurred the week prior. Amelia did not feel herself be lifted and carried upstairs and placed gently on the mattress.

Instructing Finlay to ride with the carriage into town through the snow and bring back the physician, Thomas stayed with Amelia who within the hour had opened her eyes, confused at the location change and being in the bedroom fully dressed in the middle of the day.

”Sit up carefully, my love,” Thomas told Amelia who was rising and placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from getting up.

”Why am I in bed, Thomas?” she asked, observing her husband’s pallid features and the worry lines on his brow, something which she had been privy to on his features with Lucille’s illness.

”You fainted. Finlay is on his way to bring the local doctor,” Thomas looked toward the window and outside, frowning at the whiteness before him which would slow the trip.

”A doctor? There’s no need for that, I’m fine truly,” however, despite her protestations, Thomas insisted she remain resting and be seen and that she was not a medical professional. Amelia had wanted to argue and retort that neither was he and that she felt perfectly OK but knowing how painful the loss of his sister had been she allowed him his fussing.

The doctor arrived that afternoon, an older man with a full, white moustache and beard, though his head completely bald. Tall and slim like Thomas, and with a lilting West Country dialect that made Amelia feel comforted. The examination was precise and swift, Amelia who rarely sickened unaccustomed to anyone’s hands, except now Thomas’, touching her but Dr. Clements was so matter of fact in his movements that it allayed her discomfort. Once complete he ushered Thomas back into their bedroom.

”Ordinarily I would give the diagnosis directly to your husband,” he began, voice friendly and a touch too loud, the sign of someone his age beginning to deafen.

Thomas and Amelia looked at each other, both wary that if the news was being delivered to the both of them that it could indicate something particularly serious and Amelia felt a pang of fear, her protestations that there was nothing wrong with her now seeming stupid, Thomas had been correct she couldn’t know.

”I would recommend spending the remainder of the day in bed, have your meals brought up and ensure you finish them,” Thomas nodded, wishing the man would get to the point, the way he was drawing out actually telling them had made the Baronet’s mouth twist in annoyance, as did him deciding to tell Amelia himself. He would have preferred to process the information before breaking it to his wife alone, but these country doctors could be unconventional and with only one town near enough to Allerdale Hall in an emergency, they were beholden to the only practising man of medicine. “Congratulations Baronet and Mrs Sharpe, you’re going to be parents.”

Amelia blinked, a small o forming as her palms cradled her stomach at the news.

”Darling, this is fantastic,” an exuberant Thomas cried out, a true smile on his face and laughter around his eyes, shaking Dr. Clements hand joyfully. 

The doctor ran through a few more instructions for the expecting parents who both listened intently, Amelia craving Thomas’ presence near to her but he remained where he was, still he had looked so jubilant but his distance whispered uncertainty into her ears that she tried to ignore. Made worse when Thomas left the room with Dr. Clements to show him out and she was all alone. A baby, a life growing inside of her - it had occurred so quickly, she and Thomas married and together merely months and yet Amelia felt this was absolutely the correct thing to happen.

”Thomas,” Amelia exclaimed happily with perhaps a hint of trepidation when the door opened and her husband rushed to her, wrapping his strong arms around Amelia’s full figure.

”You beautiful, clever girl,” he breathed out touching his lips to hers and his curls tickling her nose as his thumbs stroked her cheekbones either side.

”You...are pleased then? I know it’s very soon.”

”I could not be happier,” Thomas parted them and gazed at Amelia’s, taking in the beauty of now not simply his wife but the soon to be mother of his child. “You heard Dr. Clements, you are to stay in this bed today and there’s to be no argument.”

“By myself?” Amelia brushed her lips along his jawline, pleased when his breathing shifted and a dark chuckle escaped his lips.

”I suppose not, _little girl_ ,” Thomas ensnared his fingers in her up-do and curled them, twisting and observing the way Amelia’s cleavage rose with her head twisted.

Unbuttoning her pale pink dress and removing all the layers that went into a woman’s outfit, Thomas worked quickly and without ceremony. He would take his time once she was naked but the lead up to it would be swift.  

“Unpin your hair,” she was without clothing, save for the boots he was unlacing and her fingertips complied, taking down her hair with the practiced touch of the one used to fastening it in the first place.

Her stomach was already rounded by her shape, full and curved but he kissed her there, hands roaming to see if he could feel any change to indicate the life taking shape. He could not, it was too soon at three months, but in time it would expand. He had experienced a pregnancy previously but that had been illicit, unwanted by him, and confirmed as a terrible idea when Lucille had birthed the sickly infant. This one would be pure and it could be celebrated.

”Where are you?” Amelia interrupted Thomas, his face had crossed in shadow.

”My apologies, I was thinking Crimson Peak is not a suitable place to raise a family.”

”But this your childhood home?” Amelia had never expected to leave Cumberland.

”Which is how I know it’s unsuitable. Before our child comes into this world we’ll have left this crumbling mansion behind,” Thomas said, his eyes glinting with desire, the conversation of houses and moving to be discussed at another time.

”Please daddy, I need to feel your skin on mine,” Amelia breathed out, Thomas had not even noticed he remained dressed, so used to clothing being present in the past and he undid the shirt buttons, pulling it and the suspenders down at the same time. Trousers and shoes were next, leaving him exposed and visibly hard.

”Place me in your mouth,” Thomas rose on his knees, the soft comforter beneath them and Amelia sat up, lips parted already.

There was no preamble or teasing, Amelia wanted the organ and using her tongue to brush the underside of his dick she sucked him deeply, tilting her face upward to allow more room to fit him. Thomas indicated his pleasure with a groan and cupped her right cheek, Amelia’s eyes closed in her own enjoyment.

”Look at me when you are taking my cock inside of your beautiful mouth,” the Baronet’s voice was rich and sinful.

Her gaze meeting his, it was Amelia’s turn to make a noise, her pussy contracting at the promises of hedonism her husband reflected back at her. Her digits clutched around his firm, hair covered thigh, the strong muscles underneath tightening. She used it to give herself purchase, Thomas letting her lead the pace, which she was determined to do to his satisfaction and was succeeding if the mixture of his groans and the suction made by her mouth was any indication. 

“Stop,” Thomas pulled away, their bodies remaining connected by a strand of saliva that broke when he was far enough. “I need to be inside of my little girl, lay back down and show me yourself.”

Wiping at what remained on her lips, Amelia then shifted and did as instructed, the hair on her mound glossy when she was on her back and spread for Thomas. Just as she had not wasted time when taking him, he did the same, entering the girl’s cunt in one movement, his size always a surprise to her. Thomas didn’t wait for her to become accustomed to him, his hips shifted as soon as he was buried in her and cruel fingertips pinched a nipple.

”I won’t be able to fuck you this way for much longer, when you are swollen with our baby you’ll have to be on your knees, your needy pussy on display for your daddy,” he growled at her and Amelia whimpered knowing he was correct, that she would debase herself and let Thomas take her in whatever manner was possible. “And when you fill with milk and I am inside of you, perhaps I will even pull at these,” his hand yanked the same - now sensitive - nipple “and see if you spill.”

His words too depraved, treating her as a broodmare and a stark contrast to the happy father to be he had been earlier, and Amelia felt the coil tightening in her belly, eyes scrunched right in concentration and all it took was a further twist of the nub he still held and she came. Thomas slowed his pace, not wishing his end to come this soon, making longer sweeps of his hips that had his wife crying out with each one, her noises were intoxicating though and  it wasn’t long before he wished to cover her with his seed; already impregnated but still his to mark.

It was later, when Thomas took himself downstairs to follow the doctor’s orders of feeding her that Amelia felt unwell again, a cough building inside of her and as she did, she felt something spatter on the hankerchief she held to her self. Looking down she saw crimson dots against the white cloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misreallllll, I am not trying to be a big copy cat waaaaah, please still love (you’ve never said you loved me, but I’m just amping it from like for effect) me. I’m borrowing this from the film and the timing is upside down emoji face.
> 
> I think this story has 1-2 chapters left, depending whether I do a larger one or split them. How exciting it will be to have a finished story ~~so I can start another one, maybe~~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last chapter. I hope those who have been here for this wee journey have enjoyed it, thank you for your kudos and comments, they're lovely to receive.
> 
> Unrelatedly, I remember previously reading how said should always be used over synonyms for it (exclaimed, stuttered, etc.) and I hate this dumb rule (see also, adding an adverb after said) with my L I F E and will never follow it *point;wink*

The intention to keep the blood she had coughed a secret was not one which came to Amelia in order to deceive but as a result of the fear which tightened her heart, that if she were unwell what would happen to the infant growing inside of her. The cramps she tried to brush as signs of pregnancy and nothing to fret over. If she went to Thomas he might slow his works and that would keep them in Allerdale Hall - longer if not indefinitely - and despite her having expressed reservations over leaving, that had been out of concern for Thomas cutting all ties with his life before her. After the strange and frightening goings-on Amelia could not wait until they vacated the crumbling mansion and rode away for the last time, putting as much distance between her family and the house. Life at Crimson Peak had tested her beliefs of what was and wasn't real and she would be glad when she could revert to her previous view of the world.

* * *

Thomas gazed up at his family estate, gloomy and foreboding, even on the clearest Summer's day it loomed over the sky as if fighting with the sun itself for prominence; the third disapproving figure in his life, behind Beatrice and James whom Lucille had protected him from. The white had begun to melt, there were patches of the terracotta clay visible on the ground in the areas most trod on and the breeze itself had lost the worst of the bitting chill and was fast Spring approaching. With it, and the end of the snow storms, his small staff had been able to return to full days and he was certain the machine would be complete within the next forty-eight hours. It ran fully, the culmination of his toiling and sacrifice had finally reached its climax, but finishing touches existed in discovering now how much it dug and excavated. Tests were being conducted to take his findings to financiers who would expect total breakdowns before investing the large sums he was seeking. The patent had been filed by himself, having travelled to Chancery Lane in London, contained sketches and diagrams of the machine's workings. He would not reopen the Sharpe mines, rather opt to manufacture his creation and let Crimson Peak sink. He would sell the land, perhaps look to find an investor who would themselves wish to renovate the mine but it would not be him, Amelia and their child at the helm; he would not pass on the legacy down a further generation. The horrors of what he and Lucille had committed to get to this point would forever mark his soul, the stain would never dissipate, but it was all behind him. Or it would be, soon.

* * *

Amelia rose up on her feet, waking groggily from a nap she had not intended to take, merely planning to rest with a cup of sweet tea and her cross stitch yet tiredness had consumed her and she had been forced to close her eyes. Her hand now flew to her stomach as a sharp ache rippled through Amelia, enough to strangle all of her voice from calling out to Thomas, in the hope that if she could be loud enough he might hear her, even though it was unlikely. The impact on her shoulder which followed next brought her to her knees, the rugs underneath taking some of the brunt of impact although she was already feeling weakened from the pain. Attempting to scramble to her feet, the feel of a hand she could not see covered Amelia's face, closing off her access to oxygen and she clawed at the unseen assailant, fighting for freedom as much as against the rushing of blood around her ears and her speckled vision. Whatever had her trapped seemed undamaged by her scratches and the blows she could feel land, the only response being a cruel echo of laughter. Despite her best efforts, Amelia's world went dark.

* * *

He had searched the entirety of the house, leaving no room that was accessible, as large parts of the house were simply too dilapidated to safely inhabit and had been closed off for years, unchecked. The grinding of gears from the lift caught his ear and Thomas raced down the stairway, feet landing heavily in his haste. It rose from the basements, empty, with no sign of Amelia; the clink of steel the only sounds to be heard as the door parted seemingly by itself. Thomas stepped inside the contraption and it descended, taking him into the depths of the house. 

The see-through spectre of his sister standing a few metres away somehow came as no surprise, her pale features sombre. Even in death, she would not let him go. Would not be alone.

"You promised you would not fall in love with anyone else," her familiar disapproving tone was laced with sadness, and behind that the mania that hid itself from just behind the surface.

"Lucille," said a firm and steady Thomas, eyes darting in search of his wife, "where is Amelia?"

"They all served one purpose, Thomas; their money to keep us together. She was to be no different!" Lucille roared, storming off behind one of the large clay vats and dragging a stirring Amelia forcibly by the arm.

"Th-Thomas?" Amelia blinked several times, then scuttled back in terror at Lucille's apparition.

"You died," Thomas uttered sadly, the weight of the loss still heavy in his heart.

"But I did not leave and you barely mourned before replacing me," she spat. "I kept to our original plan however, brother."

His grief turned to cold fury as the implications of her words settled upon him and with barely concealed anger he spoke, "what have you done?"

"You were so perfect as a child," Lucille reminisced, the memory softening her expression and ignored his question.

"Answer me, Lucille," Thomas rushed to Amelia's side and sank to his knees.

"The tea. It's always in the tea."

"Thomas, what is she talking about? How is any of this possible?" Amelia was struggling to keep up with everything, the pain across her middle hadn't dulled, if anything it felt worse.

"Why?" an anguished Thomas helped Amelia up, red dust falling off the both of them, keeping his eyes on the ghost of his sister.

"It was always down to me, you would leave the grim tasks for me to complete as you locked yourself in your workroom. I saved us, I protected you and you repaid it by forgetting me," Lucille's voice shook not with sadness but rage.

"How long have you been poisoning her?" 

"Do not play dumb in this brother, pretending to your sweet Amelia that I am the only monster. How many wives have you aided in murdering? Three, was it not, Pamela, Margaret and Enola. She is but another of them, her sole purpose to keep us together."

Amelia gaped as the truth came crashing around her, trying to pull her arm free of Thomas who did not release her.

"No, that is not the case, I love you Amelia." 

"Then say it’s not true." 

"Tell her why," Lucille smirked at her triumph. "No? Allow me. Thomas and I love each other, not as brother and sister but as man and wife. You and your mistake will not part us."

Amelia stopped struggling to get away from Thomas, the absolute horror of what the other woman was stating bringing a wave of nausea and tears streamed from her eyes. Her safe and happy life a sham, their child probably an accident and now they wished to murder them both. Her baby. No.

"No," Thomas stepped in front of Amelia, unknowingly echoing the same thought she had had. "You will touch neither of them, Lucille. I do not know how it is you still linger in this place but what we did was wicked, and it ends." He turned his back to her and faced his wife who flinched, "I know you have no reason to trust me, Lucille did not lie I did do those things, I cannot hide from that but let me take you from this place. I won't hurt you, or our child, I swear it."

Having faced away from Lucille he did not see his older sister step toward them, he missed her raised arm and as she had with Amelia she brought it down heavily, this time not to the body but the head. With a muffled noise, Thomas crumpled between the two women he loved.

"Please, you must know I am pregnant," Amelia begged her.

"He had needs, I have to forgive him for what he's done. And I will, because we belong together, in this house. You I will deal with first but Thomas, he won't suffer. I would never cause him any pain."

Rushing to the lift, as was her previous experience, it would not open. Beyond this main room she did not know the layout, what led up and out and what would bring her into the mines themselves. Faced with no other option, Amelia held onto her heavy skirts and darted through one of the open doorways, coming to regret her decision as the path wound and broke up, certain she was now heading toward the mine and not in the direction of freedom.

"You cannot possibly get away, Amelia," Lucille called out, with no air of hurry about her voice.

Amelia did not respond, she didn't know if Lucille was crazy or evil or a combination of both but what she was certain of was there it would do no good and so in the pitch black she inched forward, forced to slow down and driven by the necessity to survive this. Bitterness bubbled from her when her foot caught and in tripping and climbing back to her feet, Amelia found herself at a dead end when the ethereal glow of Lucille lit her view. Amelia sprinted toward Lucille, but cruel, bony fingers caught her easily and threw her back down. Finally resigned that there was nothing more to try, Amelia glanced downward, she would not look at the other woman, instead wrapping her hands around the life in her and silently apologising. In doing so Amelia initially missed the figure nearing Lucille, a red and dripping skeletal body floated with one arm holding onto a deformed looking infant. Rising from the ground, another two ghostly corpses surrounded Lucille, where she had at least resembled how she had looked in life, these creatures were from nightmares. They rushed at a stricken faced Lucille, enveloping her in their malevolent circle and the faint light which had emanated from the elder Sharpe disappeared along with her, plunging Amelia back into darkness. Shaking from shock, she tensed when a scraping noise caught her ears but her initial relief upon hearing Thomas calling her name diminished in remembering Lucille's words that she had not acted alone. The flickering of the oil lamp came into view first, illuminating Thomas' sharp features as he made his way to Amelia, who had climbed up and anxiously regarded her husband.

"We must hurry," Thomas said, after he had quickly checked over Amelia, ensuring she had not been hurt.

"I can't explain it but Lucille is gone," she had no words to describe what she had witnessed and she shrugged off Thomas' arms as he led them out of the maze she had found herself in, the marks from her footprints on the clay floor the only reason he had found her. Amelia exhaled, not having realised she had been partially holding her breath when they stepped outside. Calling to Finlay Thomas instructed him to ready the carriage and neither spoke as they waited, Finlay finally returning and getting down, holding onto the horses reigns.

"Gather David and Seamus," Thomas said, addressing the older man. "there will be no further need for them to return. I'll ensure they are paid as agreed, but please have them leave. The same for you," he shook his hand then, thanking him for his help and assuring Finlay that he would be looked after in return for his decades of service to the Sharpe's.

"No, please I want Finlay to take me into town," Amelia looked at the exiting servant, knowing she could not count on Thomas to keep her safe.

"Amelia, I promised you inside that I meant you no harm and that has not changed."

In order to drive the carriage, Thomas sat at the front, giving Amelia the opportunity to reflect on how quickly everything had changed, how so much of what had occurred was so outside the realm of what she had believed possible and as the small town approached in the distance she felt a sense of relief, she had not glanced behind her as they rode away from Allerdale Hall. Helping her climb from the seat, Thomas begged Amelia for further patience and checked her into the small single-room guesthouse before fetching the doctor, to whom he explained a mix-up had caused the accidental poisoning of his wife, the lies expertly leaving his tongue but followed by a newer sense of guilt.

During the examination Thomas knew there was the possibility that Amelia would, with some edits, tell Dr. Clements what he had done but he remained where he was, outside of the room, nervously waiting not if his crimes would catch up with him but for news of his wife and child.

Amelia resented that the doctor would not speak with her alone, and when Thomas entered with an expression she could not read she felt certain the diagnosis was to be negative, that she had failed to protect her baby.

”There can be no certainties until the baby is born, but Dr. Clements believes you are both well, Lucille must have only began to poison you once she learned you were with child,” Thomas reassured her, keeping his distance.

Relief washed over Amelia, before she turned grim, “those women, your _wives_ , and what you did.”

“There is no explanation that would forgive my actions and know that I do not seek to excuse what I did, but allow me speak.”

She did, they sat across from each other separated by a small table and with her eyes not leaving Thomas she gave him the opportunity to add to the awful truths Lucille had revealed. Thomas hadn’t had to face his actions previously, Lucille there to lead them into the madness and comfort his misgivings but however much she had instigated it, he was not free from sin. He had charmed and manipulated the his previous wives, all for the purpose of his creation and the assurances from his sister that they deserved the money after what they had endured as children. That the beatings she had faced at Beatrice’s hand and his father’s both were not in vain. They could never be split, not after her years in the sanatorium, housed with adults whose crimes matched and surpassed hers. She had been both strong willed and weak with desperation that they never be parted.

“She was right when she said I closed myself away, but I am not innocent. I played a willing part to keep her love and for us to remain together. We only ever knew affection from each other, by the time we realised how wrong it was we were too caught in its web.”

“Was it all a lie?”

”No, when Lucille died I was freed from a prison I did not know I was trapped in. I hadn’t known truly the darkness that surrounded us until she was gone. I wouldn’t have done anything to injure you. I wished nothing beyond the opportunity to start afresh.”

They talked into the night, Thomas speaking honestly for the first time. Even with Lucille, the sparks of good within him had been kept locked away, he had turned his back on what was right for the hardened but ultimately frail woman that she was. Amelia, exhausted and confused, asked Thomas to leave her around two-am, despite there being nowhere else he could stay, to allow her and the baby to rest. And as she lay on the strange bed, away from her husband, she understood a little of what Lucille had meant when she had whispered darkly about how being with Thomas was worth any cost. She herself would never, _could_ never, have gone to the lengths the Sharpe family had but she knew she did not want to be parted from Thomas. He had committed evil deeds, things nobody would understand and even as cruel as his upbringing had been he was correct that there was no excuse good enough and still, this was her family. She would not stay because a woman in her position, even if Thomas signed her wealth back to her which she believed he would, would struggle nor because it meant raising their child alone. No, Amelia would take Thomas back because in her heart she adored him and it was true, love made monsters of them all.

* * *

"Darling, do you remember what the rules are? Thomas cupped his wife's chin and tilted her face upwards, their one month old son fast asleep in his cot in a separate room of their Manchester home.

Sinking to her knees, an echo of that night in Allerdale Hall inside Thomas' workroom, Amelia nodded with his hand still on her face, "yes daddy," she breathed and her lids closed, a sigh of contentment escaping her as the Baronet kissed the top of her head and stepped away, unwinding the ropes which were resting by him.

"Recite them to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Thank you Archy for the prompt, it was super fun to build something around an idea of someone else's. For your birthday this year you'll probably just get a one shot lol. 
> 
> I know I didn't end it explicit, but I liked the fading to black away from their life, like we got a peek briefly into how they came to be and now we leave them to it.


End file.
